To Seal Peace's Kiss

A poem for venting

By Ian ReadPublished about a year ago • 1 min read

Skin like granite, and a call like thunder

Men and missiles rend ramparts asunder

A battlefield strewn with dead and dying

Carrion-sown fields host crows a-flying

But then comes the horn and a flag of truce

The gates let open and their hosts come loose

And speak gentle words of peace and of soothe

---

The duke in red sees his men in the muck

He won the day, though he pyrrhic in luck

He weeps a tear for the slain and the earth

As the duke in blue rides in unearn'd mirth

The foes meet between, the scene of the fight

One duke leans in close, as soon as he might

To seal peace's kiss with steel's harden'd bite.

I am an archaeologist, bookwyrm, and story-teller from New Hampshire.

Serial Fiction, Short Stories, and Poetry in diverse genres with a penchant for dark fiction and whimsical fantasy.

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